Clearing
by L56895
Summary: Misty drags the gang to a masquerade ball. Written for Kinktober.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at Kinktober! Day one and the prompt I've chosen is 'Masks'. All characters are aged up from the anime.

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"I can't believe she's dragged us to this thing," Ash stirred his drink miserably and looked out over the ballroom. Everyone around them was dressed in lace and frilly shirts and, what was worse, he was pretty sure his shirt was amongst the frilliest.

"It's traditional!" Brock beamed at him, "And it's so _romantic,_ isn't it? A masquerade ball-" he caught Ash's furious gaze, "Okay, but it's hot, right? Don't you love the idea of banging some chick in a mask?"

Ash shook his head and backed away slowly, throwing his friend a disgusted look before Brock turned away, presumably to find his first victim. Ash drained his drink.

"Better slow down, I'm not carrying you home." He swung around at the familiar voice.

"You owe me for- Oh!" He stopped, tongue limp in his mouth at the sight of her. Her costume was less ostentatious than some of the others in the room, less lace and layers than the more traditional dresses. But it dropped low on her breasts, nipped in at the waist, and feathered down around her ankles. Tearing his eyes from her cleavage, Ash did a double take at her feet.

"Mist… where are your shoes?"

"My feet hurt," she said simply, "Then some guy trod on my toes on the dance floor."

It was a miserable sight, her clutching her shoes in one hand and wiping her face with the other. Behind them, one of the local women would point and whisper behind her hands until Ash glared at them. Misty bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot, waiting. He knew his best friend well enough to know that she would never admit she was wrong about anything; if they were escaping any time soon he'd have to rise above the desire to gloat.

Ash cocked his head to one side, "Wanna get out of here?" he held his arm out to her, "If we go down the lawn we can avoid the gravel driveway. So long as you trust me to protect you in the woods after dark."

Misty took his offered elbow gratefully and, to his shock, stretched up to kiss him on the cheek, "My hero," she teased. Ash waved at Brock on the way, who he knew would join them much, much later, and pulled her out on the the veranda and down the steps to the garden. They were staying a short distance away through the woods, further if they went through the town, but he had a belt of Pokeballs and the night was quiet. The woods it would be. They walked in silence for a long while, one of the things he'd come to love about growing up with someone was that every moment didn't need to be pierced with small talk, until they came to a clearing in the woods. The trees were thinner, light shining down from the full moon, and he felt her hang back slightly, a gentle pull on his elbow. Dropping her arm, he turned to face he and tilted his head expectantly.

"It seemed like such a romantic idea," she said eventually, "You know? We never get to see much of the places we see when we travel. I just wanted to try something new. But I guess I felt like even more of an outsider in there. Everyone was so stunning."

There was something in her voice that sounded sadder than her words and he looked down at her. Her mask covered a lot of her face but he thought he could see her forehead pucker as she frowned and her eyes shone in the moonlight. In the silence of the clearing it seemed obscene to raise his voice, so he stepped closer and lowered his lips to her ear.

"You look beautiful tonight, Mist," he murmured.

"You're just saying that because most of my face is covered," she laughed quietly, sadly. Ash frowned at her, reached up to cup her face. Their teen years had been kind to the both of them; he now stood a clear head above her and she… his mother had once referred to her as having 'grown in to her body.' Her lips were full and parted, shining slightly in the moonlight where she had licked them, her skin glowed pale in the darkness. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss her. To run his lips along the exposed skin below her mask and capture her lips with his own. The cut of her dress left her neck uncovered, her collarbones ready to receive soft kisses, her shoulders free for the taking. He'd never considered what he found most attractive in a woman, but right now he would swear it was lips and the silk skin stretched over a bare neck.

"No," he whispered, "I mean it."

He kissed her gently, felt her gasp against his lips then yield to him. With nervous hesitation, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her tight to him. Their masks bumped as he reached up to cup the back of her head and pull her closer to him. They sank down together, knees hitting the mossy floor, then fell on one another.

On the ground, he climbed on top of her, legs entangled in her skirt. She was pure willingness in his arms and when he reached up to tip her chin back she arched in to him, moaning when he pressed his face in to the soft skin of her neck. He kissed her, nipped her with his teeth and reached up to run his thumb along the rim of her mask.

"Want me to take it off?" she breathed, reaching up to press his hand closer against her cheek. Shaking his head, he kissed her again, parted her lips to plunge his tongue within. With his free hand he tugged at the laces on her bodice and felt her hands join him, making quick work of the ties and pushing the layers of fabric away. He curled his body over her to reach her exposed breasts, took a nipple in his mouth and teased the other with his fingers. Her back arched against him, one leg broke free from the trappings of her skirt to curl around him. Seeking permission in her eyes, he ran his hand down her newly bared legs and toyed with the hem of her underwear and waited, breath held, for her to give him a sign to continue.

"Told you masks were hot!"

Their yelps of horror split the silence. Brock leant against a tree behind them, a half finished drink in his hand and a grin on his face. He held a torch loosely in his hand and to Ash's eternal gratitude he had not shone it on them. Underneath him, Misty scrabbled to cover her bare chest and Ash pulled off his jacket to wrap around her, hoisted them both to their feet. Without meeting his eye she pulled the rough fabric around herself, lip quivering and turned from them both.

"Misty…" he started, reaching out to take her hand. She snatched it away, set her shoulders firmly and tipped her chin to him.

"We should get back. It's cold."


	2. Chapter 2

I originally wrote Chapter 1 as a one-shot for Kinktober, but it was a bit too abrupt and angsty an ending for me so here's a second chapter that hopefully ties it together better!

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Ash sat in the dark long after Brock had gone to bed, the drink he'd poured for himself sitting untouched in his hand. The cabin was quiet- they were deep enough in to the woods that the only sound that could be heard was the occasionally rustle of wings in the trees- and he muddled the silence with heavy taps of his fingertips against the arm of the threadbare couch.

He'd thrown his mask in a heap on the floor with his jacket the second they'd got in; watched as Misty walked to her bedroom and slammed the door without a second glance. She was embarrassed, he knew that, but the rejection still stung. Brock had made some jovial comment to the closed door, earning him a glare from Ash, and then slunk off to the room they were sharing.

Ash fumed, although he wasn't exactly sure what he was most upset about. Sure, Misty was embarrassed, but that was no reason to take it out on him when he had an equal right to that feeling. Unless she was ashamed of kissing him- or of whatever it was they would have done if Brock hadn't stumbled upon them beforehand- in which case, he had even _more_ of a right to be pissed.

Part of him wanted to confront her; that hot-headed childish part of him that he'd been working so hard on controlling. The bigger part of him just wanted his best friend to not be angry any more. In the end that part won and he sighed and pushed himself off of the couch and stalked over to her bedroom door. Knocking gently, he pushed down the handle.

"Mist? You awake?" He peered around the door in to the gloom. She was stock-still in the bed and faced away from him, too still, and he sighed. "Come on, talk to me. I know you're awake."

Slowly, she rolled on to her back and clenched her fists in to the sheets.

"How could you tell?" she asked softly, giving him a quick glance. He stepped in to the room and shut the door behind him, cutting off the last of the light and leaving only the sound of their quiet breathing. He shrugged uselessly and stepped closer to the bed.

"Years of travelling together, I guess. You have this cute little snore when you're asleep," he said lightly, hoping she'd see through his thinly veiled attempts to be jolly. He hopped from foot to foot nervously. "Mind if I join you?"

She said nothing, but in the quiet he could hear her shuffling along the bed and the rustling of blankets being pushed back. Slowly, he scooted over to her and tucked himself in next to her, pulling the sheet back round himself. Too late he wished he'd changed out of his shirt and trousers- it felt strange to be fully dressed with her in her pyjamas next to him- but he turned and tucked her under his arm regardless, nestling himself in to a comfortable position.

"Are you mad at me?" he whispered softly in to her hair.

"No, are you mad at me?" her reply came quietly, but in the stillness he clung to every word. In lieu of anything to say he pulled her tighter against him and buried his face in to the curve of her shoulder. She still smelt like the grass from the clearing and his breath hitched. He'd wanted her, more than anything in that moment, and she had slipped through his fingertips.

"I wish Brock hadn't interrupted us earlier," he said finally, slipping his hand underneath her shirt and stroking the soft skin he found there, "Whatever happened, I think it would have been really good."

She said nothing in response, just turned herself round and pressed her lips to his. He jolted slightly in shock before instinct took over and he kissed her back hungrily, his hands slipping up her back to hold her close. In the stillness of the room only the sound of their lips brushing together, and the roar of blood in his ears, broke through the silence and he clung to her as if letting go would mean falling in to the darkness, his hands tangled in the fabric of her clothes. Moaning when she pulled away, Ash pushed himself across the bed and reached desperately for her waist. With more poise than he could muster in that moment, she soothed him with a hand on his chest and ran her fingertips down the buttons of his shirt.

Her fingers made quick work of it and he shucked the material off over his shoulders, breaking their kiss briefly to untangle his arms. The tables turned from their moment in the woods, she ran her hands along his bare chest while he tugged at her nightshirt.

"We're really doing this?" he mumbled in to her neck, fumbling with the ties on her shorts while she ran her fingers through his hair. Back arched, she let him pull her shorts down and kicked them out from under the blankets.

"We really are," she laughed as he pushed down his pants and flung them out of the bed, belt and all. They hit the wall with a clang and the two of them froze, listening for the tell-tale signs of Brock stirring in the room next door. When she started shaking in his arms he recoiled until he realised she was stifling a giggle and he patted her gently on her hip.

"Shh! You'll really wake him up if you start laughing!"

She batted him lightly on the arm and opened hers to him. He went willingly, revelling in the feel of her bare legs against his.

"Hey, Mist?" he whispered as he rolled her under him and pulled her shirt up to reveal her breasts to his wandering hands, "If he comes in now I say we just power through."


End file.
